Throw the Dice Read online

  Throw the Dice

  An April May Snow Short Story

  By

  M. Scott Swanson

  A true friend is someone who thinks that you are a good egg even though he knows that you are slightly cracked.

  -Bernard Meltzer

  Chapter 1

  This isn't part of the master plan. To say the news puts a crimp in my lifestyle is an understatement.

  Jan Miller, my recruiter from Master Lloyd and Johnson, continues to drone on about training sessions I'll need to complete at the firm. Training sessions which won't start for another five weeks. The training sessions I expected, the delay in employment agitates me. The delay means I'm broke this summer.

  I struggle to hold my tongue before I say anything that puts a quick end to my career at the prestigious law office in Atlanta. I count the money available to live on while Jan talks. My online account shows five dollars and ten cents available. I add that to the contents of my billfold and change bowl, I reach the staggeringly obscene tally of fifty-two dollars and a penny. On closer inspection it's a Canadian penny.

  I have an issue.

  "Are you positive I can't start and do some paralegal work for you until Ramsey can join us for training?" I'm not about to accept this without an attempt to find a fair solution for both of us.

  "Oh no," Jan gasps, "We believe associates beginning the program together critical to their development. Synchronization fosters camaraderie and cohesiveness of the team."

  I don't understand in the least how me doing paralegal work for five weeks before Ramsey arrives is going to hurt our long-term relationship. More importantly, Jan never mentioned I wouldn't be starting with the firm at once after my graduation from law school.

  My diploma freshly framed with an attractive crimson mat border lays on my bed. I picked it up this morning from the frame store. Only five minutes ago, I had unwrapped the brown protective paper and flooded with pride as I admired the framed document. April May Snow, Juris Doctorate the University of Alabama, having my degree is still surreal to me. I can hardly believe I managed to hold my plan together all these years and finally accomplish my goal. Just looking at the diploma gives me a warm glow over my body.

  When Jan called, she jammed a sinister needle into my bubble of happiness.

  "Jan, you never mentioned there would be a waiting period before I could start." I remind her.

  "Well, technically, I never told you when you would start. I only said you were awarded one of the two positions." Jan's tone grows terse.

  I'm smart enough to know I should end the conversation and just deal with my new reality. But I don't possess the self-discipline to shut my mouth. "Excuse me if I consider it normal for recruits to expect to start work right after their graduation."

  Jan exhales loudly, "I want to remind you that you didn't pass the bar yet. You’re not an attorney. Master Lloyd and Johnson is taking a huge monetary risk investing in your preparation for the bar to help you with your career. There are hundreds of applicants we turned down. We felt you best fit our company's culture. But if this is an inconvenience too monumental for you to overcome, perhaps we were wrong with our decision-making. Perhaps we might best part ways now."

  It tweaks me Jan decides to go all nuclear on me. But her comment did shift things back into perspective for me. Master Lloyd and Johnson is the premier law firm in Atlanta, and their clients are entertainers, sports figures, and successful entrepreneurs. I fought hard for the position and am thrilled to be one of the two selected candidates.

  The issue isn't the job, being broke is the issue.

  "No, ma'am. I'm disappointed I'll need to wait to start my career with my new team. I'm anxious to come to work and prove my value."

  "I'm pleased you say that," Jan replies, "understand you don't need to be in a rush. You have forty years to work at the firm. Take the next few weeks off and hang out with your friends and enjoy yourself. You worked hard to finish your degree. Take a few weeks to be young and enjoy not having any responsibilities. You won't be able to scratch out any downtime once you start."

  Jan makes an excellent point. The last three years were a grind. Finishing at the top of my class took every ounce of energy I could muster. But with no money and my friends already gone to start their lives, the next five weeks look like purgatory to me.

  I finish my conversation with Jan on a positive note and hang up the phone. Staring at the wall, the silence engulfs me, and my ears start to ring.

  The thing is I would love nothing more than to kick back and take an extended vacation. I earned a break. The problem is I didn't plan for this and I didn't put back any money for summer expenses. If I knew there would be a delay after graduation before I could start work, I would have... Oh, who am I kidding? I've been operating broke for so long, no money in my wallet is my norm. Probably if Jan had warned me, I wouldn't be any better prepared.

  My family live by a hard-fast rule. My parents pay for undergraduate degrees for their children. One of my twin brothers and I took advantage of their promise. My other twin brother went to work in the family business instead.

  Graduate degrees are strictly our responsibility. Here's a fact for you, law school isn't cheap.

  I'm not complaining. What a wonderful gift, my parents paid for my undergraduate degree. But the student loans I took out for the three years of law school would've bought me a comfortable brick house in my hometown of Guntersville, Alabama.

  Not that I would ever want a house in Guntersville, Alabama. Guntersville, Alabama is the last place I want a home. One of the specific reasons I went to law school to start with is to make sure I don't end up in my hometown.

  I'm thinking about my options, slim and none when I remember the lease on my apartment ends this Wednesday. Great. Now I also must figure out what I'm going to do with my stuff. This keeps getting better.

  Focus April. This is no time to think negative.

  I can be sure I'm not going to survive on fifty-two dollars for five weeks. I can be frugal, but even Ramen noodles run more than ten dollars a week.

  In a pinch, I suppose I could crash at the sorority house for a few weeks. With most the girls gone home for the summer, I'm sure my sorority could find room for me, and I could help them prepare for this fall's rush while I'm there. Honestly, I'm not exactly enthused about the idea, but my best friend Marty already left for DC, and the sorority house might be my best bet.

  I pick up the phone and call the president, Breanna Coggins. Breanna sort of owes me a favor since I helped decorate the house for graduation last week.

  "April?"

  I'm saved on her phone, that has to be a good thing. Right? "Hi, Breanna. How's your summer going?"

  "Busy." She hiccups an abbreviated laugh, "are you calling me from Atlanta?"

  My ears warm as extra blood rushes to them. I've no idea why I should be embarrassed. "Oh, no. My job doesn't start for another seven weeks."

  "Oh," she exhales into the phone, "I thought you were leaving right after graduation."

  "I was, at last it was my intention. But I thought about my circumstances the next morning, and I realized I'm only twenty-six, I have forty years to work at the firm. I've worked hard so I might as well take some time before I start." Just because the words came from Jan Miller's mouth doesn't make the advice any less true.

  "That makes sense. Well if you're bored, come on by for dinner. I'm sure the girls would love to visit with you." Breanna offers.

  "Funny you should mention visiting. You see, I already turned in my notice to my landlord, and I've lost the lease on my apartment. I was wondering if you might find a room I could use for a few weeks and a place for me to store my stuff?"

  The long pause catches me off guard. I pu
ll the phone from my ear to check I didn't accidentally disconnect Breanna.

  "Wow, April. I hate to hear about your apartment lease. The girls, and I would love to help, but you we doubled up in the rooms the past year. Even with a lot of the girls gone home, all the rooms are occupied right now."

  My buoyant spirits flag, "I don't mind sharing a room."

  "Yeah, I don't know I would feel right about asking the girls. They pay a steep price for the rooms. The ones staying behind consider the solo room a bonus when they get a couple of months to themselves."

  My chest tightens, and I have difficulty breathing, "I won't be any trouble to a roommate, and I won't be at the house most the time. There is so much to do getting ready for my move to Atlanta.

  Breanna blows into the receiver again. Boy, that's becoming annoying. "I suppose we could give you the sofa in the den. I've been told it's comfortable."

  I'm in shock. All the hours I spent on behalf of my sorority, and this is how they pay me back?

  Breanna isn't done cutting me down to size, "we definitely don't have room for furnishings though. You'll need to rent a storage unit."

  I'm so numb all I can do is say, "oh sure."

  "Okay," Breanna's bouncy voice returns, "I'll tell the girls you'll be staying with us. They'll enjoy your little visit."

  I try to tell myself this isn't personal. The sorority grew exponentially in popularity the seven years I've been on campus.

  But gosh darn it, a good bit of the reason why the sorority became more popular is because of the leadership I gave. Because I did a fantastic job as the president, I earned five weeks on a ratty sofa rather than a spare bed I deserve.

  Whatever. Beggars can't be choosy.

  ​​​​

  Chapter 2

  I search for storage units on my phone and dial one with the cute name of Packrat.

  The nice-sounding lady asks me several questions, and we decide I need a twelve-foot by twenty-foot unit. The size sounds reasonable if I stack my things.

  The hundred and sixty dollars a month with a hundred- and fifty-dollar deposit does not sound reasonable. I nearly choke while I regain my composure and tell her, I must discuss the cost with my roommate.

  To recount, for the privilege of sleeping on a crappy sofa, I'll pay three hundred and twenty dollars. Oh, I forget the U-Haul rental. Yeah, I can't forget a trailer, assuming I can rig my Prius to pull it.

  Peaches! I'm looking at four hundred dollars easily.

  The expense is before I begin to deal with the fact It'll be right down embarrassing sleeping on the sofa when most of my sorority sisters look up to me as someone they hope to emulate. There's no telling how many fragile psyches I might damage if I'm temporarily homeless and camped out on their sofa.

  I think I knew from the start, but the sorority house is out.

  This isn't the time for wishful thinking, but I can't help gravitating back to Granny Snow's belief she can manifest anything by asking the universe and focusing her energies on the item. She calls the process manifesting. How cool would it be if I could manifest about ten thousand dollars right now? Heck, why limit myself? I would manifest a hundred thousand dollars and give twenty thousand to charity.

  But that's just Granny's nonsense. She also insists I have the same ability, but to date, the only thing I'm able to manifest is aggravating situations.

  The way I understand my situation, I have three options available to me. Two of bite, and one of is not realistic.

  I could call Daddy right now, and he'd wire me any amount of money I ask for. We would both agree never to tell Mama about the money. Of course, this would be a loan. A loan with the zero-interest-rate the 'First Father Bank of Alabama' charges their favorite customer.

  Considering I want to be taken seriously as an adult, I don't want to call my dad for help. Asking for help seems like backsliding to me.

  I could always show up at my parents' lake house. Last week Dad was complaining because I'm heading straight to Atlanta rather than visiting the family in Guntersville first. I'm not sure if five weeks is technically a visit.

  The biggest problem with the surprise visit plan is Mama and my brother Dusty. After a week or two, those two would grow suspicious and start asking questions. They're sharp like that. Given I'm officially the world's worst liar, I best not put myself in a situation where I'd need to make something up.

  The third choice is a real longshot. But given the fact the first two options bite so bad, I need to investigate before I rule any options out.

  Maybe, I can strike a deal with my apartment manager. I might be able to scrape enough money together by pawning my personal items. I could always buy back any I want when I get my relocation check.

  I dial our rental office as I pace through my apartment looking for anything of value, to pawn. The phone rings ten times and goes to voicemail. I hang up and dial again.

  I've numerous formal dresses I could sell, but the season is a few months off. I own a new elliptical machine, a graduation gift, I'll be using when I'm set up in Atlanta. The only other item I own of value is a hand me down TV I remember watching Barney on as a kid.

  Mary, the live-in leasing agent, better be in a charitable mood, or I'm back to calling my dad. Their phone goes to voicemail again.

  Perfect. The one time I need somebody in the office, and everyone has gone to lunch.

  I can't leave a voicemail and hope for a call back. I need an answer now so I can develop a plan. I drop my phone into my back pocket and head out for the office.

  ​​​​

  The heat and humidity suck my breath away. I've lived in Alabama my entire life, and I'm still amazed at how the air can be too hot to breath. As I make my way across the freshly tarred asphalt parking lot, little rivulets of sweat trace down my back. The heat is so high there's not a soul at the swimming pool.

  What the heck, Mary's car is out front, she's got to be inside. I yank the office door open and suck the cooler air deep into my lungs.

  "April?"

  I open my eyes and wipe my damp eyebrows with the back of my wrist. The tiny woman in front of me looks vaguely familiar, but I can't place the face. "Yes?"

  She taps her chest, "April, it's me, Sonia Jurgensen."

  Man, I must be a hundred years old. The last time I saw Sonia Jurgensen, she was doing an age-inappropriate dance with her cheerleading squad. "Oh, my goodness. I didn't recognize you; it's been so long."

  She grins in the wild-eyed manner she always had, "I know, like what ten years?"

  "Goodness, where's the time gone?" We stare at one another before I add, "when did you start at Alabama?"

  Sonia jerks her chin into the air and lets out a manic laugh making the hair on the back of my neck stand up, "oh, I'm not in college silly." She turns and pulls a young man forward, "Trent here is the college boy. We're going steady, and I'm moving in with him."

  I struggle to close my mouth. Sonia's ecstatic, but I don't understand why. "Well, that's awfully cool."

  Her lips flatten as she takes a serious tone, "I know, right? Not everybody can find their true love before their twenty."

  I nod my head slowly, "true. Few people are that fortunate."

  "Of course, both of our parents are totally against the marriage." She flips her hand, "the whole you're too young why don't you date other people... But I say if you found the ONE what's the point. You don't want to lose them, that's for sure."

  This is becoming more awkward, "I'm sure they have your best interest at heart."

  She rolls her eyes, "the last thing is they even think we're pregnant. Like we have to be pregnant to want to spend the rest our lives together. I don't feel the need to explain to them why we're in love anymore and constantly justify it to them."

  Sonia's crazy eyes begin to make me uncomfortable. I direct the next question to her boyfriend, "Trent, what are you studying?"

  "Quantitative analysis with a minor in statistics." His eyes are as crazy as hers.

>   I shudder involuntarily. Trent and Sonia are two peas in a pod. Two crazy peas. "Well, that's a curriculum that'll keep you busy."

  He goes wide-eyed and grins, "I can do standard deviation calculations in my head."

  And I can pick out a deviant. "Impressive."

  Mary enters from the back room and pulls up short when she notices me, "hey April."

  "Hi, Mary."

  "Give me a moment to finish up with Trent and his girlfriend." She says as she hands Sonia a key. "I need you to sign here."

  As Sonia leans over and signs her name, she asks, "Do you have any lunch plans, April?"

  I stammer since she caught me unprepared. "uh, well no. I was trying to put my things in order to go to Atlanta."

  "Oh, that sounds fun. I've always wanted to travel the world." She turns to Trent, "Weren't we just saying the other day we would love to visit Georgia."

  "Sure, did babe."

  Sonia runs a hand down my arm. "You have to come to lunch with us and tell us all about your job."

  "There's not much to tell." That is an understatement. I've never been to Atlanta myself. A fact becoming more preposterous to me the closer I come to moving day.

  "Sure, there is." She plants her hands on her hips. "I won't take no for an answer, April."

  Trent shrugs, "That's a fact. She never takes no for an answer."

  "What can I do for you, April?" Mary interjects thankfully into the craziness.

  "Uh, I..." I raise my eyebrows at Sonia and Trent in hopes they will take the hint and give us some privacy.

  "No worries. We're all family here." Sonia says.

  "Do you have a leak or something, April?" Mary continues to press.

  "No," I scan from Mary to Sonia and back before I blow an exasperated breath. Whatever. I grew up in a town where everyone was into each other's business. I don't understand why sharing would bother me now.

  "I was notified I won't be starting in Atlanta for a few days and I'm wondering if you leased out my apartment yet?" I ask.

  Mary's brow furrows, "a few days? Like a week?"

  "Hmm, more like five," I say under my breath.